Promised Redemption
by Mago
Summary: It promised a sweet and tantalizing future, full of raging storms and whispering nightmares and full of the darkest, deepest secrets... It promised redemption. DMxGWxBZ
1. Fucking Normality

_re-loaded to smooth out some incongrueties with chap. II_

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_She was hollow._

_And the drums were beating again._

_Wild and heathen._

_Stirring and alluring._

_Their pulse was thrumming through her veins, working her driven senses until she was on overload._

_It was a delicious torment as it had been every single time. The humming energy made her feel as if she would burst any moment with divine and unadulterated ecstasy. Everything and nothing ran through her veins at that timeless moment when pain coursed through her. Just as last time, the delicious and utterly desired release arrived, and she had finally known peace as her silenced screams were shredded from her shadowy soul and were pieced simultaneously until she was utterly whole again. It was something so ethereal and benign that she felt compelled to experience it over and over again until she would plummet into a delirious fever. Splintering Deaths and bleeding moons didn't matter anymore. Everything seemed so far away and unreal. Nobody could touch her here._

_Not here._

_Not where the morn collided against the dusk and everything was left in an unholy and dim stillness. In here, the dreams were whisked away as if a deep breeze had blown and purified her very core, replaced by piercing nightmares that made you shiver and want to scream unrelentlessly._

_The clutching fear had vanished. The void that tore her apart from within was vanquished. Her haunts were quieted with the divine presence of a single Rose. A blooming touch kept her alive for the rest of her tormenting life; her only company her condemned soul._

_And she wanted to stay here. She wanted to stay here so very badly, wanted to sway to the rhythm, to that guttural beat that activated her every nerve and made her feel vibrant and alive. She wanted to be free of every single restraint for the first time in so many, many years… And she wanted to respond to that unrelenting call that promised so many things yet untold. It was like a siren call, something that she wouldn't be able to resist for long and that drew her to it so unbearably that she knew that if she didn't yield soon she would be broken forever, destroyed with no remedy but normality. Fucking normality… It was as if the magic that ran through her veins had been triggered to its maximum capacity, and she couldn't deny the sweet power that promised to course through her if only she surrendered to its bittersweet call, its entrancing lullaby. It called her with all its fury to embrace her birthright, her heritage. It promised to fulfill her, to take this state into permanent residence within her, to never leave her alone again. It promised a sweet and tantalizing future, full of raging storms and whispering nightmares and full of the darkest, deepest secrets…_

_It promised redemption._

_And she knew that as long as she didn't abstain from accepting it, she would be a fixed part of this unworldly puzzle, and nothing else would matter, because everything would be alright, they would take care of her, they would embrace her and never deny her. They would make it all go away…_

_And it didn't matter that she didn't know who were they, because they yearned for her…and she was needed._

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With a gasp she woke up once again to that overwhelming sense of power that flared in the walls of her body, devouring sanity and reason. Her eyes were wide and alert, her pupils almost slit, observing every strand of energy that emanated from her own body as she managed to wake her brain.

Her blood appeared to be boiling as it sped through her veins and thundered throughout her body. Her senses were sharpened almost painfully to their climax as she was able to hear and feel, see and smell every single little drop, and her eyes ripped through the seamless stitches of darkness as if they didn't exist.

She felt a purring of some unknown and powerful magic deep within her as it unwound and stretched, trying to reach the vaguest corners of her body that she had ignored they existed. She felt how it fought and battled to resurface and be in charge once again. For her, it was a losing battle, and for once in her lifetime, she succumbed. Panic surged with a blast inside her as she somehow felt like she was waking up yet _again_. But this waking up was so _right_. She was in a totally different world. Planes above planes were revealed to her as if they had always existed in her line of superfluous vision, and she saw what others only occasionally saw and then discarded for nightmares. She saw the demons and she discovered the world.

She took a few minutes to admire her new perception as she turned around to look at her sleeping companions and saw black beasts hovering most of them, waiting to attack and destroy, but she wasn't helpless, but she wasn't sure she wanted to help them either…

Driven to it, and not questioning once what she was feeling, she lowered her gaze to her pallid and trembling hands. Wisps, however dim, of a faint reddish glow trailed behind as her fingers wove through the air, intoxicating the room with their ethereal aura. They simply appeared to belong there, as if they should have been there all her life…

Everything fell into place, and she wasn't alone anymore.

It was only logical for her to be surrounded by a red hazy mist that enveloped her entirely and lifted her off the floor a few feet as it wrapped its inviting coils around her still childish body, brushing her tenderly and lovingly as a mind-numbing alteration began to take place with a mother's gentle and loving care.

A black flash happened at the back of her mind, and she knew, she _knew_.

She felt powerful then as she saw the undulating wisps of telltale magic emerge, floating from her after she was deposited safely once again to the floor. One knee folded beneath her and her blood red hair fell like a curtain across her features as her face bowed. And she saw the natural occur as she instinctively wrapped her hands around her wooden bedpost and wild red waves emerged from her thrumming fingers and pulsating body…

She lost control.

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The fire had hit quickly and furiously, sending all the Gryffindor inhabitants screaming and yelling towards their common room where rapidly everyone was soon assembled. The roaring flames were devouring everything that was upon its way with no apparent mercy and no evident intention of stopping any time soon. It didn't quench under the huge amount of water the teachers had summoned, nor with the numerous shouted "_Finite Incantatem_"'s that were cried.

Its heat was beyond unnatural.

Scorching didn't even begin to describe it.

Smokeless and not the typical reddish orange color of fire, this phenomenon was getting everyone a bit anxious. Nobody had ever seen a fire that was like spilled blood and seemed to have a will of its own as it whipped and cracked through the air with renovated vigor. It seemed to eat the oxygen away.

Worried grimaces were starting to appear in the wizened old faces of the teachers as they found no visible way of immediately stopping the furious deafening flames as they slowly but surely advanced with firm step towards consuming everything. The students were just standing there sweating profusely, fear evident in all of their faces as they realized that the bedrooms were all but gone, and that this nightmare wouldn't be ending anytime soon.

What would be happening to them?

What would be happening to Gryffindor?

All lions were staring at the flames, despair clearly written in their faces. Fear had brought them more together than they had ever been. Anyone who sported the red and golden colors could depend in everyone present. Tonight there were no differences, _everyone_ was united.

Everyone was in danger.

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Ginny Weasley's face was a complete blank as she gazed with entranced eyes the livid flames that devoured everything surrounding her. She simply stood in the middle of the room, not as much as a single ash touching her china skin, with her porcelain hands lying at her sides, clenched into tight fists that made her drip blood into the clean circle that had formed around her. The bed poles had long ago been incinerated. The first second, in fact.

She hadn't known she had so much fury pent up inside her.

_She had burned Gryffindor down! _The scandalized tone of her mother amused her.

A little crooked smirk tugged at the end of her lips as the astonishment she had been feeling at the beginning of this entire odyssey dissipated and a sense of triumph overrode her. She felt a surge of liberty so pure in its bliss that she closed her eyes and sighed as she tilted her head, feeling the sizzling heat surround her.

Never had she been so attuned to her surroundings, every crackle resounded in her ears like a mellow harmony that she didn't want to ever end. The waves of energy pulsating off her in this very second were liberating, enthralling, addictive. She wasn't about to go back to the restraints that had tied her so effortlessly for so long. She wasn't about to return to _normality_. Fucking normality. Where everyone was the same color, where everyone acted the same, talked the same, pretended to feel the same. She wasn't willing to stop them anytime soon.

Let them all burn.

----------------

Harry Potter nudged Ron in an urgent manner.

"Oy, what the ruddy…?" the redhead cried as he felt Harry's elbows slamming into his ribs…hard.

"Shut up! Not so loud," Harry hissed.

"What the hell is up to you?" Ron asked a bit irritated as he continued to stare at Hermione, besotted.

"I'm looking for your sister, you bloody dimwit," Harry answered disgusted, trying to ignore the smoldering gazes Ron was sending to their best friend.

Ron turned a bit red as he snapped out of his grotesque reverie in time to realize what Harry was saying, but he seemed to control himself just in time. "Don't mess with my sister, Potter," he growled.

"What?" Harry looked puzzled for a second as he took those moments to realize what exactly Ron was talking about. "Not like that, you arse. How can you even…? Ugh, what I'm trying to tell you is that…Oh forget it. If you're so much of an idiot to think that I would _ever_ look at your sister in that way you are sorely mistaken. And I do think you are too much of an idiot, since, apparently, you haven't noticed that your darling sister is actually _missing_, or have you seen her recently, hmm?" Harry asked with an arched eyebrow as he crossed his arms and waited for Ron's flustered reaction. Sometimes he wondered if Ron would even notice Ginny if she didn't date the few folks she actually talked to.

Somehow, he doubted that.

"What? Ginny? Sure, she's…she's around…Somewhere," Ron answered distractedly as Hermione had chosen that moment to pick up her hair and fan her sweaty self with her hand and Ron was positively salivating.

"_Ron_!" Harry said exasperatedly as he tried to stop the bile that was rising in his throat. "We need to talk to McGonagall," he continued, still waiting for some kind of reaction from the redhead. "_Now_." Harry took Ron by the collar and literally dragged him away to the general opposite direction from Hermione, who was still staring at the fire, completely lost.

"Huh? Wha—what? _Harry_! Let go!" Ron cried indignantly. Finally he seemed able to snap back into it as he yanked himself free from Harry's grip and managed to pin him with a compromising glare as he adjusted his robes and brushed dust off them.

Not that it helped.

"Weasley, your sister's missing, has been for the last twenty minutes at least. Hell, I don't even know if she evacuated the fifth year's dorm. We need to find McGonagall and inform her of the situation. What if something happened to her?" It was amazing really, how Ron could change colors in record time. He was red in a matter of milliseconds, his eyes narrowed as he stared Harry down.

"You been looking for my sister then, eh?" he growled out.

"Stop, just stop! You're being pathetic _and_ ridiculous, you know it. By Merlin, your sister's missing, you big fat asshole! Wake up!" And then Harry stormed off.

"You're still taking too much interest, Potter," Ron muttered grouchily as he scuffed his shoes in the floor and then made his way through the crowd to run after Harry.

-----------------------------------

"And when do you say was the last time you saw her?" Professor McGonagall asked shrewdly, her narrowed eyes trained on the Golden Boy who just wouldn't die.

"This afternoon, ma'am. Claimed she wasn't feeling well and went up to take a nap, but she didn't come down to dinner, and her roommates told Ron that she was so deeply asleep that they didn't want to bother her," Harry answered deftly under McGonagall's scrutinizing stare. She was anything but proper at this moment with her disheveled hair and stained robes, the brackets of her mouth strained, but her stare could still cut through ice, and it could certainly still cut through Harry.

"And why are you informing me of this until now, Mr. Potter?"

"Well—I"

"We wanted to be sure, Professor. We didn't want to alarm you and the others by reporting something that could be false," Ron interjected panting as he finally arrived.

It was Ron's turn to find himself leveled with the Professor's gaze.

And to his credit, he didn't squirm…

Much.

"Your sister is missing and you 'didn't want to alarm me and the others by reporting something that could be false'!" she asked unbelievingly.

At Ron's gulp and trembling nod she got a look in her face that suggested strangling.

"Mr. Weasley, we are about to move all the students to the Slytherin dungeons if this fire isn't controlled soon," she paused to stare pointedly at the flames that refused to be kept at bay and were advancing steadily downward to where they were.

"The Slytherin _dungeons_!" Ron cried in a choked voice. "I will _never_ set foot again in that filthy place as long as I live. Better dead than being around those filthy poofs who have a broomstick so high up their as—"

"And it seems it _won't_ be contained any time soon, so I would suggest that you dedicate your remaining time here searching for your _beloved_ sister if you know what's best for you, Mr. Weasley." McGonagall interrupted as she continued as if she hadn't heard the Weasley's explosion, acknowledging it only with a faint narrowing of her eyes. "Professor Snape has been considerate enough to give us sanctuary there. We all know how reserved Slytherins can be, and this is the ultimate gesture of kindness. And I trust you to be able to _behave_ like the young man you supposedly _are_," she added, the statement directed to both of them. "When we leave, this House shall be sealed behind us, no one will be able to come in _or_ out. We hope that we can find the source behind this hell sometime, but until then, _sealed_." She stared at them with penetrating eyes, as if waiting for them to react. After a while of total silence except for the rumbling of flames she arched her eyebrow and pointedly started talking again. "Well?" she asked. The two boys turned to look at each other, each shrugging imperceptibly. "Don't you have a relative to search for, Mr. Weasley?"

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	2. Gryffindor Grandeur

They were marching silently, the singed robes and strained faces of both professors the only testimony to the blazing ruins they had left behind. The whole lot was simply exhausted. Not even the typically hushed grumbles of complaint could be heard from the unusually sombre and frightened Gryffindors as they walked through the increasingly dank corridors, directly into the serpent's belly. Everyone was wary, tired from a full night without sleep, the worry of one of their companions missing gnawing at their very bones and Slytherin right now didn't even begin to sound half bad. Anything to be away, anything to be safe.

A sinister Snape led them all; the tip of his wand providing the only light in the hall, his robes losing themselves against the pitch obscurity that now reigned. It ate away the nerves, touched the outer shell and lingered in the hearts. Every single torch had been put out, the fear of fire was irrational now, and one could only be grateful for the damp area that Slytherin was placed in. The portraits had been covered with ghostly blankets that seemed to glow on their own, so white were they. But even hidden, their murmurs were not to be ignored as they seemed to follow them everywhere, gliding along the floors, whispering up the walls, breezing through the air, curling around the corners to finally stand haunting in the next step. It caused the students to wrap their cloaks more tightly around themselves, in a fake attempt to liberate themselves from the obscene excitement the old and decaying canvas demonstrated.

The news was out: Gryffindor was destroyed, in ashes. A mere remembrance that would soon cease to exist...

_It had been twelve hours since the first screams had been heard as terrified girls came barrelling from the fifth year dormitory, their faces sallow, their frenzied screams rapidly declaring incongruities all over again. They stumbled over their own tongues, their words catching in their throats as they tried to describe _what_ exactly was going on._ _Their tears were raining down on the impeccable carpet, their eyes crystallized as they seemed to shut down internally. McGonagall grew consternated as she watched her students break down from sheer fright and ordered Hermione, as she was the only prefect available at present, to go and check what 'all this was about'. The rest of the Gryffs that had been present to witness the scandal were all hearing closely, their constant chatter having died off immediately before their friends' shrieks. And then Hermione came down._

_Her face was ashen, her hands were trembling and she appeared barely able to be on her feet._

"_W—we ha—have," she began in a beaten whisper. Apparently realizing how _pathetic_ she sounded, Hermione closed her eyes and visibly swallowed, clenching her hands together to stop them from betraying her emotions. "It appears we have a problem Professor," she concluded, her voice breaking as she trailed off and collapsed into the settee that was just behind her, her eyes shocked._

"_And what would that be, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked after a long pause, as it seemed Hermione wouldn't continue relaying the message of her own volition._

"_Fi—fire, Headmistress," she finally said._

"_Yes!" McGonagall hissed. "We already _know _there's a fire, as you yourself heard it from those two girls! Could you please tell us just how big this fire is? How much damage has it caused? Is anybody hurt!"_

"_I—I..." Hermione just stared wide-eyed at her. Giving a huff of impatience, McGonagall decided to take the matter into her own hands. Clear determination was written on her face as she climbed the spiralling and stone staircase that led her to the evident source of trouble. She paused before the painting of a stormy landscape that was the entrance to that particular dormitory, her eyes narrowing as she noticed that there wasn't any type of smoke whatsoever emanating from the inside. Still cautious, she put her hand flat against the unanimated canvas and jumped back as her palm was seared._

"_So, so hot," she said worriedly. Yes, indeed there was a fire. A very strong fire that had to be contained soon…but the lack of smoke was still not accounted for. What could possibly…_

_Knowing that it was dangerous to open the portrait completely unprotected, the professor cast a shield around her and whispered the universal password in Gryffindor, known only to the prefects and herself. "_Claire de la Lune_" she said clearly. But nothing happened, and she couldn't be wrong. Nobody could change the passwords but her, or the Headmaster, but Albus wasn't the type of person that bothered himself with the changing of universal portrait passwords unless explicitly necessary, and McGonagall didn't see any need to do it… So it couldn't be the password. What was it then?_

_The answer came, albeit unexpectedly._

_A single drop was sliding down the wall, a low hiss accompanying it as it fell to the floor. Incredulous, McGonagall inspected the now cooled and very much solid, glittering drop._

"_Impossible," she said as she looked up; but it was possible indeed, as it was standing before her very eyes. _

_McGonagall's eyes widened in realization._

_As she made a mad dash down the stairs she was praying to whoever would listen that all the girls in that dormitory had been accounted for. If not…_

"_Merlin help us."_

_Few students were still gathered at the common room, their bewildered expressions becoming more so as they watched their Head of House come down the stairs, her face inscrutable._

"_Miss Granger," she said crisply, trying to regain her inner control and not let her students see her in the state she was in. The girl looked up, the scared look still in her features. It was obvious that she hadn't managed to control her speech yet, so it seemed the Gryffindors still didn't know exactly what was going on._

Good_, McGonagall nodded. The less they knew the better. She didn't need more panic-stricken people. They would only create a pandemonium that simply wouldn't be helpful. That wouldn't do at all. "Miss Granger," she repeated, and this time her features were schooled into a pinched look of control. "I need you to contact the Headmaster. _Immediately_, if it serves you right, and tell him that we have ah—" here McGonagall paused. How to say it and not alarm the students?_

"_A minor problem to report? Yes Headmistress, it will do," Hermione finished for her, already standing up and smoothing her uniform. That girl had it in her, alright. Not giving it a second thought, McGonagall set herself to crisply give out more orders, almost the rest of the Gryffindor prefects were already there._

"_Patil," the girl looked up. "I want you to make sure that all the fifth year girls are accounted for, and I don't care if even _one _of them decided to break the rules and take a midnight swim on the lake, I want them _all _in the common room, _now_." Parvati nodded._

"_Miss Brown,"_

"_Yes Professor?"_

"_Make sure that _all_ the dormitories are evacuated, as soon and efficiently as possible. Double check to see that nobody is left behind, and see it to yourself to keep from the fifth year room. Direct them all here into the common room and do please try to be quick about it."_

"_Professor?"_

"_Yes, Miss Brown?" McGonagall, intimidating, arched an eyebrow._

"_Well—you see—if it is a minor problem, why should we evacuate the dormitories—err right," she finished off hastily upon seeing the look she was receiving from the professor._

"_This is a mere security procedure Miss Brown, until that is done, I shall ask you to refrain from questioning my judgement further," McGonagall said severely as she frowned. They had to act quickly, or else the fire would get out of control and could probably entirely burn the canvas and start spreading all over Gryffindor, turning this into more of a mess than what it already was. They needed to unseal that frame from the wall, but how…_

"_Minerva," the voice of the Headmaster behind her made her stop her train of thought and nod her head. Without even turning around, once again she started climbing the stairs, knowing that Dumbledore would be right behind her._

"_Miss Granger here informed me that there seems to be a _minor_ problem in the girl's dormitory. But I somehow doubt that a 'minor problem' would be enough to rise me from my sleep, Minerva. Last time I checked you were a perfectly able witch," Dumbledore started as soon as they had rounded a corner and were out of the students' hearing._

_Instead of answering though, McGonagall simply stopped in front of the entrance to the dormitory, yet again, and motioned to the many drops that had been constantly sliding to the floor and were now dully glittering from there. Looking through his half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore examined them closely._

"_Ah, I see," he said seriously as he bent down to pick one of the droplets. "I see indeed."_

"_Albus, is it—is it from…?" McGonagall asked, somewhat breathless. It wouldn't seem real until Dumbledore confirmed it, because it _couldn't _be real._

"_I'm afraid it is, Minerva," Dumbledore said seriously, his gaze moving to the picture and inspecting it. "I'm quite surprised it has resisted this much, as it goes."_

"_But Albus, this is wizard's _Edellentè_! It cannot melt!" McGonagall exclaimed fearfully._

_Dumbledore looked at her warily, his blue eyes clouding over. "But it has, Professor, it has."_

_They both turned to look at the picture again, or at the picture _frame_. What once had been a silver and beautiful frame was now reduced to a disgusting mass of boiling blisters and dripping rivulets of the same colour. Like McGonagall had said, _Edellentè _did _not_ just _melt_, and the frame was made_ _of _Edellentè_. But that was exactly what had happened, which was proof enough of just how _searing_ the fire was from within. The frame of the portrait had melted and melded itself into the wall, effectively sealing completely the entrance—or exit—of anything, or _anyone

"_Have the girls in this dormitory been counted for?" Dumbledore asked calmly, turning to look at the shaken witch that was beside him._

"_Not—not yet, Albus, but it appears so, since most of them came crying down the stairs. That was what first alerted us of the…problem."_

"_Indeed." He couldn't seem to be able to finish looking at the picture, his eyes narrowing and roving it, examining minutely. McGonagall didn't see how this would help at all, but over the years she had learned to not question Albus' decisions, however odd they proved to be. The painting itself remained intact, the stormy landscape thundering more than ever, but now a dull roar accompanied it._

_A dull roar that the two adults were sure was coming from within._

_Dumbledore barely had time to throw a protective shield over both of them as the wall before them exploded._

They had finally arrived at the Slytherin dungeons, there was no denying it. The place reeked of it. As they sharply turned a corner uncomfortable scuffles from several pairs of feet could be heard, but still, not a single word was uttered. Everyone seemed to have taking a Silencing Potion and it seemed extremely redundant, since they were with the Potions Master of Hogwarts. One could almost roll his or her eyes. Though the silence was almost spell-binding, that didn't keep the Gryffindors from shooting newly nervous glances to their surroundings. Of course they couldn't see much, but that only served to increase their fidgets as Severus Snape flicked his wand in front of a wall and muttered something under his breath. A low rumble was heard and the wall started to slide to the right, revealing a dark place that had a glowing cast to it. Hermione took a step to go in, but Snape stopped her with a commanding hiss, "Wait still, you little fool! Can't you _see_ the magic?" he barked. Glaring at her for a minute more, he guided his hand to his mouth and he bit into his thumb, letting a single drop slide into the small stone bowl that was beside the entrance. "Acepta pues a estos magos y brujas como tus protegidos, santuario de piedra, sangre pura y sangre impura por igual. Mi sangre he dado de mi propia voluntad, limpiando así su suciedad. Estas bajo mi comando, y este es: no los dañarás ni lastimarás hasta que no sean bienvenidos más en este lugar,"° he said smoothly in Spanish. A green net that had been hidden from the students' view materialized momentarily, only to evaporate in the blink of an eye, making many of them wonder if they had ever seen it at all.

"Is tha—was that…?" Hermione had a frown playing in her brows. She had appeared confused a few moments earlier, but now comprehension had dawned on the intelligent witch's brain.

"Yes, it was, Miss Granger," Snape sneered as he bowed in a fake gentlemanly way, inviting her, no, _ordering_ her to pass. Hermione recognized an insult when she was thrown one, and this time, this one in its blatancy, was difficult to ignore.

McGonagall was next, as she and Dumbledore had already managed to catch up with the rest of the group after sealing Gryffindor shut, and Snape could only sneer mildly, for she was still one of the staff. Briskly ignoring him, McGonagall fell into step with the prefect, and Hermione looked at her warily from the corner of her eye. She knew what the Head was thinking. They had finally sealed Gryffindor.

They had sealed _ruins_.

They had battled and they had lost.

They had all fought all-consuming fire strenuously, and it had taken its toll.

Panic had been inevitable, and McGonagall herself had been starting to feel it, swallowing her up. They hadn't been able to do progress, and it had all turned into a rampant chaos. As soon as the wall had exploded, McGonagall's world had gone entirely scarlet for a few minutes, and she had been sure she had died. But then again, Dumbledore had been with her, hadn't he? Minerva McGonagall grimaced. And he once again had saved her life. They had rushed down the stairs, behind the screaming students, and they had found the common room completely crowded.And just when it simply couldn't get worse…

"_Professor! Professor McGonagall!" It was one of the many insistent yells she had heard called in her direction this night and she had ignored them all. The spells she was casting needed her full attention, but it was the voice it belonged to that made her finally turn around._

"_Yes, Mister Potter?" she said shortly, her concentration still not reducing._

"_Professor, its Ginny, Ginny, Ron's sister, ma'am," Potter said haltingly and McGonagall shot him an inquiring and piercing gaze._

"_What about Miss Weasley, Potter?" she all but snarled. She was in no mood to be hearing halved explanations._

"_She—she's missing, Professor," Harry whispered and he was barely heard above the storming noise the fire was creating. At this, McGonagall stopped completely her wand flicking and turned to look piercingly at Harry._

"_Since when, exactly, Potter?" McGonagall questioned, her stern face narrowed._

"_Well, I didn't much see her today Professor, so I can't really say—"_

"_And when do you say was the last time you saw her?" McGonagall asked shrewdly, her narrowed eyes trained on Harry._

"_This afternoon, ma'am. Claimed she wasn't feeling well and went up to take a nap, but she didn't come down to dinner, and her roommates told Ron that she was so deeply asleep that they didn't want to bother her," Harry answered deftly under McGonagall's scrutinizing stare. She was anything but proper at this moment, she knew it, with her dishevelled hair and stained robes, the brackets of her mouth strained, but her stare could still cut through ice, and it could certainly still cut through this boy._

"_And why are you informing me of this until now, Mr. Potter?" she asked, her mind already reviewing every single place where this girl could be. She was a fifth year, wasn't she? If she had been sealed inside…_

"_Well—I" Potter started to stutter something but the Weasley boy arrived to the rescue. The incongruity of it all just made McGonagall narrow her eyes._

"_We wanted to be sure, Professor. We didn't want to alarm you and the others by reporting something that could be false," Ron interjected panting as he finally arrived._

_It was Ron's turn to find himself levelled with the McGonagall's gaze._

"_Your sister is missing and you 'didn't want to alarm me and the others by reporting something that could be false'!" She couldn't believe these boys! What was wrong with them? They were talking about a girl, one that was family!_

_At the boy's nod she almost lunged at him. How could he just…!_

"_Mr. Weasley, we are about to move all the students to the Slytherin dungeons if this fire isn't controlled soon," she paused to stare pointedly at the flames that refused to be kept at bay and were advancing steadily downward to where they were._

"_The Slytherin dungeons!" Ron Weasley cried in a choked voice. "I will never set foot again in that filthy place as long as I live. Better dead than being around those filthy poofs who have a broomstick so high up their as—"_

_She wasn't about to go hearing a Gryffindor go all high and mighty on the 'disgusting Slytherins' when he himself hadn't been able to report her sister missing. "And it seems it won't be contained any time soon, so I would suggest that you dedicate your remaining time here searching for your beloved sister if you know what's best for you, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall interrupted as she continued as if she hadn't heard the Weasley's explosion, acknowledging it only with a faint narrowing of her eyes. "Professor Snape has been considerate enough to give us sanctuary there. We all know how reserved Slytherins can be, and this is the ultimate gesture of kindness. And I trust you to be able to behave like the young men you supposedly are," she added, the statement directed to both of them. "When we leave, this House shall be sealed behind us, no one will be able to come in or out. We hope that we can find the source behind this hell sometime, but until then, sealed." She stared at them with penetrating eyes, as if waiting for them to react. After a while of total silence except for the rumbling of flames she arched her eyebrow and pointedly started talking again. "Well?" she asked. The two boys turned to look at each other, each shrugging imperceptibly. "Don't you have a relative to search for, Mr. Weasley?"_

_And they had both trudged off, supposedly to go and search for Weasley's sister._

_Poor, poor girl._

_------------------_

"_So how come you noticed my sister was missing, eh Potter?" Ron asked as his eyes narrowed._

"_Well, at least someone _noticed_," Harry spat, his eyes also narrowing. "When was the last time you saw her, Ron?" he tried to question. "If we can't find her here means that she _isn't_ here, so she must be…" Harry paused completely, his body stopping its movement. "In the dormitory," he whispered._

"_I don't _care_ where she is, we just _need_ to find her!" Ron growled. "She just can't be lost like that! She has to be here! But you just _had_ to look for her, didn't you! And now everything's a mess, and it's because of YOU!" Harry wouldn't even try to make sense out of Ron's twisted reasoning._

"_You should be grateful that I was looking! If not you would still be staring at Hermione like some gross star-struck _dog _instead of searching for her!"_

"_Well, she did come for us to the kitchen, you know! It's called being grateful!" Ron yelled. Harry could've strangled Ron right then and there. What did Hermione's going for them to the kitchen have to do with the fact that he'd been drooling over her! So she had gone for them and literally dragged them all the way back here so they would be counted and declared present, but just _what_ did that have to do with _anything

"_What does that have to do with anything?" he yelled back. "It's called being _sick_! You idiot! If you fancy her you don't have to deny it, dammit! It's not as if I would actually _care_! We're looking for Ginny!"_

"_HA! So now you've accepted you fancy Ginny, eh!" This had turned into a full-blown shouting match. Ron was red and Harry was about to smack him. Stupidity should be punished!_

"_WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, PRAT! SHE'S _LOST_! DON'T YOU CARE! IF WE HADN'T BEEN IN THE KITCHEN WE WOULD'VE BEEN ABLE TO SEE IF SHE CAME DOWN FROM THE DORMITORY OF NOT! AS IT IS, SHE MAY STILL BE UP THERE!"_

"_AHA!" Ron roared triumphantly. "AND WHY WERE WE IN THE KITCHEN!"_

"_BECAUSE YOU _WANTED_ TO STUFF YOUR FAT ASS, THAT'S WHY! NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP AND START LOOKING!"_

_And just then, they started calling for everyone to go out, Gryffindor was going to be sealed._

_---------------------_

_After Potter and Weasley had left for their search of the other Weasley, McGonagall hadn't returned to her charms. She instead went directly to the Headmaster, determined to inform him of the situation. Someone had to go rescue that girl. Because McGonagall was sure that the Weasley girl wasn't here in the common room. She had never seen her come down. Reaching Dumbledore she assessed the scene carefully. Obviously the Headmaster was under some heavy stress. His brows were turned into a frown, and he was muttering incantations right and left, though none seemed to be doing any lasting help. One person single-handedly trying to put out the flames was technically laughable once you saw just what type of fire they were dealing with. But it wasn't laughable, because people's lives were in danger. It never had been a laughable situation. She had suggested bringing the rest of the staff for backup, or at least getting the students out—"Albus, you surely must see the danger in trying to deal with this ourselves! There is no chance!—, but Dumbledore had staunchly refused to both—"Minerva, it wouldn't only endanger the other professors, but the students as well. There isn't any more discussing to be done. We shall do our best, and let it come what may". Nobody would come in or out, not now. They wouldn't risk spreading this torment to the rest of the school. The percentages were high as they were, and with more oxygen coming in, who knew what this could turn into. As dangerous as it was, there was just the option of trying to keep the children safe, out of harm's way, but that in itself was also proving to be an incredibly draining feat. Not only did the students need shields, but they would not just be still, and so they had to recast them over and over again, when their whole attention should be in the fire. It was a mess._

_A mess they couldn't get out of._

_The only opportunity they had was to seal Gryffindor, and Dumbledore had told her that that would be their last resort. They would only use it when Gryffindor was all but lost, when they had done all that was possible. But before that: nothing._

"_Albus," she said carefully, maintaining her face neutral, impassive._

"_Yes Minerva?" Albus answered typically, albeit much more strained than usual._

"_Albus—one student—the Weasley girl," McGonagall didn't seem able to continue. "She's missing, Albus," McGonagall breathed, because Dumbledore didn't seem surprised. Not at all. But what surprised this man? McGonagall was almost rattling with fear and she almost couldn't stand the fact that she was the only adult that stood alone in that zone. Dumbledore was as calm as ever and that angered her, dammit._

"_I'm sure Miss Weasley will be found, Minerva. All in due time," Dumbledore answered, managing to frustrate the Headmistress even more._

_This was not going to work. "Albus, there isn't anything more to do. I have exhausted all my knowledge in this. There aren't more spells to try, and none did the trick. We will need to evacuate, and _soon_…"_

"_But with Miss Weasley missing you're afraid that the evacuation shall need to be put on hold," Dumbledore completed for her. Heaving an immensely tired sigh, Dumbledore lowered his wand. His merry eyes were dull and his face held more tired lines than one could even begin to count. McGonagall resented the fact that she hadn't been able to help more. She felt as if she had just let the whole responsibility fall into the Headmaster's lap, with her shrugging off whatever repercussion this would entail to. And now, now with the life of a student at risk, the whole scenario came tumbling onto her shoulders, and she almost doubled up and gasped at the whole weight settled unto her shoulders. She was the Head of this house, she _had _to know what to do, and it wasn't fair that she didn't._

"_We couldn't do more, Minerva, we couldn't," Dumbledore said sadly, his eyes returning to the inferno that was presented before him._

"_Shall I once more contact Snape then and tell him to be ready?" At Dumbledore's nod, McGonagall determinedly squared her shoulders. "Students, Gryffindor will be sealed in a matter of moments. For security measures we are asking that you form two files, one for the students that are in third year and younger and the rest from fourth year and up. This is so that the younger ones can leave first to the Slytherin dungeons. Professor Snape Prefects, please report to me as soon as possible, as I will give you another set of instructions in how you shall proceed. Caution is first, we cannot risk another student's life," she concluded. Not waiting to see the students' reaction, she paced briskly to the dark fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. "Professor Snape!" she clearly called, and in a matter of moments Snape's sallow face appeared in the green flames._

"_Is it time?" he asked._

"_I'm afraid it is, Severus. The Headmaster requests you to be waiting for the students outside the portrait so that you can escort them to your House's common room. Albus and I shall stay behind for a few minutes to do the incantations." Snape nodded once and disappeared from the flames._

All the Gryffindors were huddled in a corner, their eyes darting to and fro, absorbing their rich surroundings, doing what they could to keep their jaws from the floor. There was _no way_ Gryffindor had ever been like this! The illumination was dim, as it had been expected, but it wasn't enough to conceal the wealthy environs. The floor was covered in an incredibly soft black layer that appeared to absorb the sound of your footsteps, achieving to make your walk stealthy and mute. The couches were regal looking, their green and black colouring astounding the Gryffs. The throw cushions were a deep green with what they didn't doubt was true silver lining. There were double-coloured candles floating—silver and green, casting a phenomenal glow to things°. There was more imposing furniture, everything cool and impersonal and silk seemed to glisten everywhere. The fireplace was in a corner, dark and foreboding. The whole place was cast in a dark sense, making them shiver, even if they didn't know exactly what the reason of their fear was.

Everything seemed to positively _drip _money and dark elegance, and it was all they could do but to stare.

A low and very much sensual chuckle earned the Gryffs attention, as they all jumped and scuffed nervously, everyone gulping. "Appreciating all that you will never have?" It asked.

Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy were lying comfortably on one sinfully gorgeous couch, their limbs comfortably spread, their faces sporting the always confident smirks and their graceful bodies looking rich-fully in place in all the black and green silk in which they were clad. "Oh, are the brave lions _on edge_?" Draco Malfoy's husky voice asked, his smirk widening as his lids were half-mast over his grey eyes.

Of course they were on edge, it was _Slytherin_.

Legendary courage be damned.

----------------------------------

Ginevra Weasley stood in the middle of her destruction; everything had already puttered out, thus revealing the ruins she had left. There was a clean-cut circle around her that was just untouched. Not a single leftover had fallen, not a single flame had graced it. It was clean and scary in its accuracy. Or would have been if she hadn't felt it to be simply natural. She was still standing in the middle of the dormitory, and although the vista was now quite different, debris and ashes covering the floor, she couldn't bring herself to care.

She was revolted.

She was disgusted at how quickly everything had unraveled. She was disgusted because she hadn't been able to completely purge her fury. And she didn't care that she didn't know why she was furious, she just was, dammit! She felt disappointed, _let down_ at how easy everything had proved to be. She had expected more challenge, more of a battle, more of that _something_, but alas! it appeared she was destined to be disappointed. But Gryffindor did seem to be quite a disappointer as of late.

So much for Gryffindor grandeur.

She had been cheated brutally.

-----------------

° It's in Spanish, so here's the translation: Accept now these wizards and witches as your protegees, stone sanctuary, pure blood and impure blood equally. My blood I have given of my own free will, cleansing thus their filth. Yield now, you are under my command, and this shall be: you shall not hurt or destroy them until they are no longer welcome in this place.

° I took the candle floating idea from dracademented, sorry. no harm is intended.


End file.
